Enhanced
by RavenclawGenius
Summary: Hermione/Edward: Right after she graduates, Hermione's parents insist that they visit family in Forks. After a crash, Hermione must learn to adjust to living with a family of vampires while teaching them about magic. HPxTwilight. Pre-Bella.
1. PROLOGUE

Hermione sighed and glanced with morbid disappointment out the window of the taxi. The rain drenched everything in the overly green surroundings; the trees, the grass, the ground, the bushes. It didn't really bother her; it wasn't as if England was much better, really.

But she didn't particularly want to be here. Her parents had insisted that, because she had just graduated and would be able to stay for a few months, they should visit their family.

In Forks, Washington.

She couldn't entirely remember having family in America at all. She hadn't visited with them since she was a small child, according to her parents. Her cousins weren't rude, or even boring, but the town lacked entertainment, sunlight, and, most importantly, magic.

Hermione wasn't quite as dependent on magic as her former classmates had been; growing up as a muggle had done that for her, at least. It wasn't very difficult to adjust to not using it. The only problem was that she felt as if she were unprotected and vulnerable, which, she was sure, wasn't the case. She could defend herself if it was necessary. She'd just fought, victoriously, in a war and had unwillingly and guiltily murdered more than one soldier on the opposing end.

She shook her head away from the memories of the bloody battlefield and focused again on the greenness outside of the window. A slither of panic wrapped itself around her when the car began to slide on the pavement. She hadn't noticed how fast the driver had been speeding down the two-lane roads.

A blur passed by the window, confusing Hermione, but she truly did not have the time to be concerned with it, as the car was swerving out of control.

Fear curled up her spine and nested there. She yearned to yell at the driver and instruct him to slow down, but she couldn't speak, and his face was far too frightened for her to even consider adding more stress to his shoulders.

Another blur, this time to the left of the car, distracted the taxi driver and his grip on the wheel loosened as the car dove, with a shriek from Hermione, nose first into a tree trunk.

**- - - -**

_Author's Note:_ I'm aware that it's short. I'm also aware that this is a different take on mostly everything, but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless. I hope to enjoy writing it! Next chapter should be up tonight or tomorrow.


	2. TURNED

An unbearable pain ripped through her and she arched up, sure that she should be dead. No pain should be this excruciating.

Her vision faded between black and white. Her eyes throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the way her blood was burning. She felt it singing through her skin, and heat radiated in waves off of her. She screamed endlessly, unable to contain it, until her vision passed into a darker realm several minutes later.

Sleep was restless. She didn't know where she was or how she had survived, but she knew that she could not be dead; this was far too painful for death. Between flashes of black and white, she saw red – and she hated it. If she dreamed, she dreamt of the war, flinched away from the scent of blood – which was suddenly much stronger than she remembered it – and sobbed behind her clenched eyelids for the lives that she had taken.

And then the pain resumed.

And this time, she was conscious when a melodic voice chimed next to her, whispering soft words. "Hush," the voice said, and Hermione noted that it was a woman before she felt pinpricks behind her eyes, forcing her to open them. The room was pitch black, but she could still see. She could see better than she ever had before, and that baffled her. What was this place?

She could see the dust motes shimmering inches from her face and wondered how she was not choking on them. She could see colors that were brighter than she ever remembered them being.

This, she thought as most of the pain subsided, _must_ be death.

"Can you sit?" Another voice, male, asked gently. Hermione felt his hand on her shoulder and flinched fearfully.

She twisted her head around to see him, and studied his face intently. He was pale – much paler than anyone she'd ever seen – and in his twenties. His hair gleamed and glistened in a supernatural manner, and his golden eyes almost screamed compassion. She felt like she should fear him, simply because she did not know him, but she couldn't. He was too open to be frightening.

Unsure of how to answer, she nodded and pushed herself into a sitting position with ease.

"Very good," he murmured.

"You're so very beautiful," the soft, womanly voice complimented, capturing one of Hermione's curls and fingering the texture of it.

Confused, Hermione said nothing, aching to be cautious and wary but unable to be. They seemed odd, surely, but not _frightening_.

"Are you thirsty?" The man asked.

"Oh, of course she is, Carlisle," the woman chided.

"I-I'm really not," Hermione declined abruptly. No, a drink certainly did not sit well with her.

"What?"

"I – should I be thirsty?" She asked.

She didn't feel… _normal._ The pain was gone, which she was immensely thankful for, but something was still off. Color was clearer; she could see far better than before. In fact, all of her senses felt stronger, although she couldn't say how. The air tasted different; tangier. It had more flavor. She could smell it, actually, which was certainly different. She could feel every thread that composed the blanket that covered her.

But she didn't feel especially thirsty.

"Yes," the man, Carlisle, said, clearly puzzled.

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed, and she looked to him again.

"What is your name?" the woman asked curiously.

Hesitantly, "Hermione."

"That's lovely," she responded, pleased. "A family name?"

"No," Hermione shook her head, wondering why she was discussing the etymology of her name with a perfect stranger when her body felt as oddly as it did. "My mother has a fascination with Shakespearean literature. It's from _The Winter's Tale_."

The woman's smile faltered slightly. "Your mother?"

Hermione nodded, looking at the blonde man once again. "I don't mean to be inconsiderate or rude; I'm fairly sure that you just saved my life," she said hurriedly, "but where am I? And _how_ did you save my life?"

"You're still in Forks," he assured her.

That astonished her. Forks could never be quite as beautiful as she was seeing everything in this room. It was too dreary. There was no way that this bright oasis could be within three hundred miles of Forks.

"Where is my family?" She asked.

When Carlisle hesitated, and seemingly decided against answering, she turned to the woman and jumped away in surprise. She was surprisingly and almost impossibly stunning. And her eyes – they were the same as the man's. Gold. Caramel, really, but still dark.

Suddenly, another of them stood at the door. He was also ridiculously handsome, although his skin was marked by crescent-shaped scars. They should have frightened her, but instead she felt an entrenched affection for the younger man.

"Hermione," the woman said, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly, "this is Jasper."

Jasper studied her warily, his face cold and indifferent, reminding her of an enhanced, much more appealing version of Draco Malfoy. A moment after she thought it, his flat face dropped, and his eyes closed briefly before he moved toward her, quicker than anyone she'd known had ever moved, and touched the side of her face with unequivocal care.

She blinked a couple times and tilted her head to look into his eyes. He stared back with an intensity that she had never known, and she simply couldn't break the contact.

She was surprised that her face didn't feel hot with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," he said tightly, his voice carrying apparent pain.

"I don't understand," Hermione said back, unable to look away from his eyes, which, she noted, were also golden.

He exchanged glances with Carlisle and the other woman, before he stiffened substantially and firmly locked his eyes on hers, his face reverted to distanced and cold.

"Your parents," he said stonily, "think that you are dead."

"Did the car look that bad?" Hermione asked sadly. "Did the driver live, too?"

"The car is demolished," Jasper said quickly, "and the driver died immediately upon impact. But you didn't," he said slowly, his face contorting in guilt and pain. "I didn't want to do it to you," he assured her.

"Do what? I don't – "

"Turn you!" He stood, pacing restlessly.

Hermione froze. There were only two magical groups that could _turn_ people into anything. And werewolves only came out on nights of the full moon. While it hadn't been particularly sunny, it surely hadn't been night time, let alone a full moon.

It all made sense, now. The pain she'd experienced, her enhanced senses, and the unrivaled beauty of the creatures before her.

And why they had been so perplexed by her lack of thirst.

"Oh," she breathed.

Her mind sped up, calculating hundreds of different options, several of them impossible, but a few of them still feasible. She detached herself from the situation and removed the conflicting emotions. It was easier to think that way.

It certainly wasn't… _good_ that her parents thought that she was dead, but that could be fixed. She would owl them and explain that something had come up in her world – the wizarding world – and would profusely apologize. They would be upset that she had left so abruptly, but that couldn't be helped.

She'd read about… about _vampires_ that fed only off of animals; she didn't know how this group survived, but that was how she would do it. She didn't exactly revel in killing animals, but, much as she loathed to think it, that was better than killing _people_. And animals were killed all the time for food, although she had always preferred not to think of that when she ate meat.

Hermione tugged her lip into her mouth as she thought, unconsciously noting that her canines seemed sharper and slightly more pointed than before. But that made sense.

She groaned. Harry and Ron would not be pleased.

"Hermione?" The woman called.

"Sorry," Hermione muttered. "I'm ah… working through my life. More importantly, how my life just changed."

"I don't recall anyone mentioning how your life just changed," Carlisle said cautiously.

"Well, no," Hermione admitted, "but because the crash was during the day it isn't very difficult to put the pieces together."

Coolly, "You've heard of us before?"

Shocked by the ice in his voice, Hermione turned to Jasper and said, befuddled, "Of course I've _heard_ of you. Even muggles have _heard_ of vampires."

"Muggles?" Carlisle repeated slowly.

"Forgive me, I thought that the term 'muggle' was relatively… well, old. Perhaps it's newer than I thought."

_Or you're _older_ than I thought,_ she said to herself.

"It means a non-magical human."

"Non-magical?" The woman asked. "What does that mean?"

"Well… they can't perform magic, of course," Hermione said bluntly, confused. "How have you – oh. OH. You – you don't know about the wizarding world at all, do you?"

She felt for her clothes, which she suddenly realized were not her own, and with a touch of panic, she asked, "Where are my clothes?"

"We ah… we had to get rid of them," the woman said. "They were drenched in… in your blood, and it was very tempting for our family."

"Where are they?"

"Well they're – "

"Esme," Carlisle said carefully, noting the fear in Hermione's voice, "can you bring her clothes?"

"Of course," she murmured.

"Wizarding world?" Jasper asked, never straying from the topic of discussion.

"I-I don't know if I'm meant to say anything to you, but… well, it surprises me that you have never heard of it, at the very least. You are vampires… you've a right to know."

She inhaled, realizing that she hadn't taken a breath since the initial notice of the air's scent, and shook away the oddness of the feeling. "The wizarding world is the world for all magical creatures, but the main species, I suppose you would say, are humans with magical abilities. Vampires live there, of course, but most don't typically make homes anywhere. The Ministry – the government – doesn't exactly approve of them. There are centaurs, giants, thestrals, hundreds of creatures, really… I am, or maybe _was_, a witch. I'm not entirely sure how the turning process works; I know that my blood isn't pumped by my heart anymore, but do I still _have_ blood?"

"Some," Carlisle answered, the doctor in him unable to refuse a medical question. "Not as much, but you have some."

Esme had returned during her speech and dropped the pile of Hermione's clothes at the foot of the bed. Jasper's entire being seemed focused on them. "Sorry," she said to him softly, reaching to the foot of the bed and frantically searching for her wand. She'd never moved so fast.

She pulled her wand from the pocket of her jacket and skimmed her fingers over it, feeling a throb of magic pulse through her. It was weaker than she was used to, but a small trill of relief permeated through her nevertheless.

"Hermione?" Esme asked softly.

"Sorry," she said again.

"The humans in your world know that we exist?" Jasper asked.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "And most of _you_ know that _we_ exist."

"Not the ones that we've encountered," Carlisle corrected. "And we've met quite a few."

"I can't really explain that," Hermione said, gnawing on her lip thoughtfully. "I-I wish I could."

"You're taking this remarkably well," Carlisle noted.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably and shrugged. "I can't exactly change it, can I?" She asked, immediately guilty for Jasper's flinch. "I've a rather cold talent for removing myself from a situation and thinking about it as logic would have, opposed to how my emotions would have it. I can be very detached when I need to be."

_And I've needed it a lot these past few years._

She wasn't even sure that she knew who she was anymore. The war had been an endless swatch of logic, which, for Hermione, meant very little time for emotions. She'd been in charge of strategy maneuvers, and had put her nearest and dearest on the front line and had been unable to acknowledge her fear for them. It was logical. She'd killed Death Eaters because they were the enemy, without giving herself the time to mourn them or revel in her guilt. It was logical.

It was for the better. It didn't feel good when she reattached her emotions to her thoughts, but it was for the better.

"Are you thirsty yet?" Esme asked.

Hermione shook her head, then shrugged uneasily. "I-I can drink, I just don't particularly feel a thirst for it."

Jasper frowned, "You haven't had any yet?"

"No."

"Forgive us," Carlisle said. "This has never happened before. Can you smell the blood on your clothes?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "But it smells the same as it always has, only stronger. I-I don't especially like blood," she muttered.

"It shouldn't matter," Jasper said. "You should still have a craving for it."

"Here," Carlisle said, handing her a plastic cup. She scrunched her nose up. She'd smelt it across the room before, but it was much less appealing when it was closer to her nose.

She stopped breathing, an uncomfortable sensation, but easily achieved, and took a gulp of the blood. "That's disgusting," Hermione announced, setting the cup on the bedside table with a grimace.

- - - -

_Author's Note: _Please review!


	3. THE EXTENDED FAMILY

"Well?" Rosalie demanded.

"She… doesn't think like everyone else," Edward said, intrigued. "She's different, somehow."

"You're useless," Rosalie threw her hands in the air.

"Come on, Rose… What did you expect him to say?" Emmett asked, tossing a baseball between two hands. "This is new for all of us. I was the last one turned by someone in the family, and you remember how long ago that was."

Jasper leapt from the top of the steps to the bottom, landing in a crouched position, immediately searching for Alice. She took his hand and flashed him a subtle smile. "It's alright, Jasper. She'll be okay. We'll take care of her."

"Is she pretty?" Rosalie asked quickly.

"Yes," Jasper answered emotionlessly. "She's very pretty."

"She's kind, also," Edward said quietly.

"When can we meet her, Jasper?" Alice asked.

"I don't… want her to be uncomfortable."

Edward tried not to listen to what Alice was thinking, but she wasn't making any attempt to quiet her thoughts. She was trying to ease Jasper's guilt, and they could all see that. She wanted to befriend their new 'sister', for lack of a better word, so that Jasper would know that they would make _Hermione_ happy. She didn't want him to regret turning her.

**- - - -**

Hermione exhaled quietly, allowing herself to breathe again, and asked, "How many of you are there?"

"There were seven of us," Carlisle said. "Including you, there are eight."

"Would it be entirely too odd if I asked you to tell me about your… coven?"

Esme laughed, "We prefer to call ourselves a family."

"Oh."

Did that mean that they wanted to make her part of the family? She didn't know how she felt about that. They seemed nice enough, but it was strange to think of anyone other than her parents as her family.

"You can meet them," Carlisle told her. "It would only take a moment to get them here. Only if you wish it, of course."

She could hear some sort of movement downstairs, which was different, because she was sure that they weren't moving very much. Her hearing, in addition to her vision, strength, and speed, were astounding. "May I go to them, instead? I'm feeling a bit restless," she admitted.

"Absolutely," Esme said.

"You might feel like you're putting too much energy into your actions," Carlisle warned. "You're much stronger as a vampire. You're even stronger because you're a newborn."

"Yes," Hermione muttered in response. "I'd noticed a few other enhanced features as well."

**- - - -**

Edward and the others stood straight, in order to properly present themselves. Jasper stood a step or two in front of them, Alice directly behind him and holding on to his hand.

Jasper unconsciously crouched forward, as if to protect the new member of the family from any harm that may or may not come to her. From what Edward could recall, Carlisle had acted quite similarly after he had changed the rest of them. It was odd to see Jasper acting that way, but not unexpected.

They all watched the stairs anxiously and listened as Carlisle and Esme encouraged her to test her speed. She seemed reluctant, but a moment later she sped down the steps at a pace much quicker than the human body would allow.

"That was certainly… an experience," she murmured.

"Hermione," Carlisle said candidly, "this is the family. That's Alice, behind Jasper. Rosalie is on the left, next to Emmett, and Edward's on the right."

Jasper was right. She was pretty. Not beautiful the way that Rosalie was, or soft like Esme, and most certainly not impish as Alice was. He couldn't put one word to describe her; the task required the use of a myriad of words from his expanded vocabulary. Her eyes were caramel, although he could read from Carlisle and Esme that they were concerned about her lack of thirst and apparent distaste for blood. Her hair looked as if it might have been brown before she was turned, but now vibrated with a variety of golds, yellows, and browns. She was small, but not as short as Alice was. She looked older than she should for her age; he could see it in the way she held herself. Her face was sweet, but looked weary and exhausted.

A thought from her halted his study of her face. _'I think my ego just dropped to an irreversible, unprecedented low.'_

"It's nice to meet you," Edward said finally, a smile itching at the edges of his mouth. She clearly had not looked into a mirror yet.

Alice jumped in front of Jasper and reached out to take Hermione's hand, "I'm Alice."

Hermione raised her eyebrows and said, "Hello."

Edward got the distinct impression that she was uncomfortable; not just because she was meeting a family of vampires, but also because she didn't particularly favor meeting new people.

"How's it going?" Emmett asked, nodding his head and holding his arms around Rosalie's waist in a silent attempt to calm her nerves.

Rosalie, of course, would say nothing, because she felt that Hermione was another threat to her unrivaled beauty. It would do nothing to tell her otherwise; she would have to grow to like Hermione in her own time.

Hermione looked ready to say something, but an owl – of all the things in the world – crashed into the glass wall of the house. She cringed, and rushed to it.

"What is she _doing_?" Rosalie asked.

"In my world," Hermione said, glancing back at Jasper for support, "owls sort of function as our mail service."

"Your… world," Emmett choked back a laugh, unable to hide a grin.

Edward was slaughtered with hundreds of images of things he'd never seen before; owls, a large brick platform, a starry ceiling, a large castle, a shopping center with broomsticks, animal shops, books with odd covers, what looked to be cauldrons and beams of light. Then the pictures began to morph into videos, of night scenes with damp, blood-stained grass.

Then the images and videos were gone, and replaced with… nothing.

Hermione was staring at him, obvious puzzlement scrawled across her face. She shook her head and looked back down to the owl, relieving the bird of its burden and stroking its feathers gently. "Sorry, Hedwig… I haven't any treats to give you. And I somehow _doubt_ you'll find much here."

The bird, irritated, flapped its wings impatiently.

Hermione scrunched her nose as she realized that there were several letters sealed within the envelope. "Here we go," she said, sighing.

_Hermione,_

_What the hell is going on?_

_Ron_

Edward snorted. Her friend appeared to be quite unmannered.

Hermione gave him another look that he couldn't read, then pulled the next letter and broke the seal.

_Hermione,_

_Please contact us as soon as you can; we're quite worried._

_Love,_

_Harry_

That one, at least, seemed to have some sort of sense of propriety.

_Hermione,_

_I would be beyond anxious, had Harry and Ron failed to place a tracking charm on you before you left for the Colonies. (Don't be angry; they were only looking out for you.) However, now I must admit that I am only greatly confused._

_Your parents owled us this morning to inform us of your tragic death, which we know to be impossible, as the charm that was placed on you is still fully operational. However, I cannot imagine that your parents would be attempting to jest with us over such a serious matter, especially taking into consideration that we have never once received an owl from them._

_Please, for the sake of my sanity and mental wellbeing, contact us quickly. Should you fail to respond, we will, of course, be coming to that town – Forks, I believe you said it was? – in order to consolidate your parents. Please inform us if that would be a bad idea._

_R. Lupin_

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut tightly and pressed her hand to her forehead. "You wouldn't happen to have a pen, would you?"

"Is something wrong?" Esme asked, concerned.

Edward flashed her an incredulous look.

**- - - -**

_Well, I've been bitten by a vampire, my parents think that I'm dead, and my friends in England are merely moments away from Apparating from the country in order to ensure that I'm _alive_. Am I missing something, here? _

Hermione shook her head. "No, I just have to… reassure a few people back home."

Jasper was beside her a moment later, offering a blue, ballpoint pen. The speed, in addition to everything else, would certainly take some getting used to.

She ripped off the bottom of Ron's parchment, and scribbled a short note back to them:

_How do we feel about vampires?_


	4. MIND OVER MATTER

Hermione stared down at the letter with apprehension, hoping to wish the words away. The letter wasn't awful… It just wasn't exactly in her favor, either.

_Bring the vampire(s) to dinner. Sunday, six o'clock. Me and Ron's place._

_Love,_

_Harry_

Good news: they weren't entirely against the idea. Bad news? Well, they thought she'd made new friends, not that she was _one of them_.

She didn't even know if the Cullens were open to being introduced to them, let alone if they would be willing to endure an awkward dinner of awed, cautious stares. She didn't know how willing _she_ was to endure that dinner.

- - - -

Jasper rolled his shoulders back to relieve some of the tension in them.

Hermione's emotions were reaching out to him, and it was all that he could do to refrain from going to her. There probably wasn't anything that he could do, and she was stressed enough as it was without knowing of the supernatural aspects of already-supernatural vampires. She didn't need to learn about his empathic ability just yet.

"Jasper," Alice whispered quietly, resting her head against his chest.

"Yes?"

"Please relax," she pleaded. "She seems okay; she isn't angry."

Jasper debated on whether he should share Hermione's emotions with Alice, but it was a losing battle. He couldn't keep anything from Alice; he'd never truly had the wish to, either. "She isn't angry," he agreed. "She's tense, and she's frightened, but she hasn't stopped a moment to dwell on that. She's odd; she can focus her emotions and hone in on whichever one she pleases."

"But it's natural that she would be scared," Alice said.

It was, and he knew that. But it was his fault that she was going through it at all. "I know," he said.

Alice didn't need the words to understand what he was feeling. She kissed his shoulder and snuggled against his side, closing her eyes. He liked those moments.

- - - -

Edward pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes. He was going to go insane. Oh, he was used to hearing people's thoughts; eighty years of it had granted him tolerance, at least. But Hermione was… odd.

He disliked that "odd" seemed to be everyone's way of describing her, but there was nothing else that pinned her down correctly.

Her thoughts were all elaborate, and detailed. She thought logically first, then threw her emotions into the mix. Edward wasn't as sensitive to the emotions as Jasper was; he didn't feel them himself, he could simply sense what they were and when they were influencing thought processes.

He didn't sense that from her at all until after her decisions had already been made. It was… odd.

And there were times that it would feel as if she knew that he was there, and ripped the thoughts from him without any difficulty at all. She just… didn't think. There was an incredible amount of discipline required to do that, and it typically only occurred in utter silence. With serious medication.

He wasn't sure if he had the patience to wait her out; he needed to know what was happening during the moments of nothingness. And, more importantly, he needed to know if she had control over it. Carlisle would be interested in knowing, also.

"Edward," Alice blurred into his room, appearing confused, "I wouldn't do that."

One of Alice's visions permeated through his mind, and he cringed as he watched with utter bewilderment. Hermione seemed… scared, really. There wasn't another word for it. She reacted to his questions defensively, her body crouched forward, her eyes flaring with something that he could only describe as power, and her "wand" aimed at his chest.

"Why would she react that way?" He asked.

Alice shook her head and shrugged. "I don't know, but she's anxious enough as it is. Please, Edward," she said quietly, "don't press her. I don't know how Jasper would take it, and I don't particularly care to know."

She didn't stay to hear his response, but she probably wouldn't have received one anyway. He didn't know what to say.

Alright, so he wouldn't ask her. But he did want to talk to her; it was odd, for him, when he couldn't understand people. Typically, hearing their thoughts allowed for a deep understanding of what motivated a person, but he couldn't get a feel for her drive at all.

If anything bothered him more than that, he'd never known of it.

He was walking – at a human pace so as not to frighten her – toward her room with little clue as to what he would say. But he needed to speak to her, because he was certain that there was something huge that they were missing in regards to Hermione Granger.

She looked up as soon as she heard him, and he saw a half-smile blink across her face before it was gone.

She really was pretty.

"Hello," he said casually, taking a seat on the couch in her room.

"Hi," she rebuked.

"I wondered how you were settling in," he decided to start easily.

She briefly laughed and looked around before meeting his eyes again, "Considering the circumstances, I'm settling just fine."

He didn't know how, because he'd never seen anyone else manage it so successfully, but she was… _sending_ him a thought.

'_I'm aware enough of vampire abilities to know that a few of them have special talents.'_ She said slowly. _'I've well enough figured out yours; I think I'm having trouble identifying what, exactly, mine is.'_

He deliberately leaned forward, as he would in a spoken conversation to express his interest and involvement in the conversation.

"There's a skill, in the Wizard world, called Legilimency. It allows you to, essentially, read another's mind – provided that there's eye contact. This obviously puts restrictions on the ability. You can only read one person's mind at a time, and even then they have to be looking directly at you. In addition, it requires an outlandish amount of concentration."

She paused, apparently to ensure that he understood. He nodded, genuinely intrigued. "Keep going."

"There's a talent opposite of Legilimency named Occlumency. Its purpose is to keep people from being able to hear your thoughts. As much focus as it takes to perform Legilimency, it's nothing to Occlumency. It's ah… very difficult," she looked away, appearing ashamed, but he couldn't tell. Her thoughts were blank again. "To achieve status as an Occlumens, you have to entirely manipulate your mind. You have pull thoughts back, and create mental barriers between prying eyes and your thoughts.

"From what I've gathered, you're gifted with an ability similar to Legilimency, without the restrictions that they must bend to," she looked for confirmation and he warily nodded.

"I don't think that I have the equivalent of Occlumency, exactly," she said wearily, "but I think I have something similar. I think… I can manipulate my thoughts. But I don't think it's limited to shielding them."

She stood up and paced to the window. "I think… I can sort of send them, or hide them, or entirely break off a thought and just stop thinking. I could be wrong," she turned and leaned against the window, arms folded over her chest as if this were a burden that she didn't want anything to do with, "but that's what it feels like."

"Before I comment," he said, making certain that he covered all the bases and prevented Alice's vision, "you must understand that I can't force myself not to hear a person's thoughts. I can focus more on a certain mind, but I can't block the others out."

Hermione nodded her understanding.

"You do," he said. "Stop thinking, I mean. Or pull a thought away from the forefront of your mind, at the very least. I'll judge by the thought that you sent me a few moments ago that you can also project ideas and, oddly enough, coherent sentences. People… don't often think in real sentences, you know? They have notions and pictures, but sentences are quite rare."

She turned, so that her shoulder pressed against the glass of the window. She looked over the grass and woods behind the house, and said, without looking back at him, "My friends in England wish for me to bring the… family to dinner on Sunday."

"If you want us to, we'll go," he said. He didn't need to ask the others what they thought of it. Rosalie would be the least willing, but she would go because it would appease Jasper. And he knew that they were all curious about the other world that Hermione kept referring to. They knew it existed because of the owl that delivered her letter the evening before, but Edward, especially, knew that it was real. The memories – however briefly they were open to his viewing – were vivid and almost tangible. Human memories and thoughts tended to be very fuzzy, but hers weren't. He wanted to see this world for himself.

"It'll be uncomfortable," she warned.

"I think we can handle it."


	5. THEORETICALLY SPEAKING

Jasper clenched and unclenched his fists, grinding his teeth together violently, tightly squeezing his eyelids shut.

Alice had told him that it would be better if he didn't say anything. He didn't want to ask her why; he trusted her. But Hermione was so nervous. She was afraid – no, she was terrified. He didn't know why, but he wanted to.

He could just ask Edward.

But Alice had told him not to, and now he was curious. And he was in pain. He _hated_ that she felt this way. Sure, he was upset when Alice was sad – everyone could see it. But he'd _never_ felt this way.

He was angry with whatever had caused her to be so frightened. In fact, he was _much_ more than willing to say that, given the choice, he would murder the cause of her distress without regretting it for even the smallest moment.

He was her sire. He should have expected this. He would have felt this way even if he did not possess his unique ability to sense and alter emotions. The fact that he did possess the ability just enhanced the pain.

He could calm her down, but Alice had told him not to. She had said that it would disturb Hermione, and then she would feel wary and distrustful of the entirety of their family. That wasn't based off of a vision – it was just a good guess. And a very logical one. They didn't want or need her to be cautious of them.

Jasper didn't even know how would ever handle that.

"Jazz," Alice whispered, wrapping her fingers around his wrist and soothing the muscles that ran up his forearm, "I promise she'll be alright."

He nodded stiffly, unable to properly articulate the words to describe how he felt.

There was raw anger and hatred for whatever it was that was hurting his Hermione. It was blind rage that kept him from speaking. But pain tore at him from the inside out, knowing that she was so utterly afraid.

What was she afraid of? Why was it so frightening to her?

He felt Alice release his arm, exhale slowly, then exit the room. He couldn't blame her; he wasn't very responsive at the moment.

Did she think that they were going to harm her friends? Was she afraid that they wouldn't accept her? He halted that thought. He might physically harm them if they didn't accept her. And she spoke so highly of them. Surely they would learn to cope, at the very least?

Jasper was sure that Alice must have retrieved Carlisle, because he showed up a moment later.

"Jasper," he said quietly, "I know this is difficult for you. But you need to relax. You're worrying Alice."

"I'm worrying myself," Jasper murmured.

"I can't honestly say that I've been there," Carlisle confessed. "I never had to worry about former friends or family members. But I do know that it's an excruciating pain when you discover that you can't fix everything for her."

"Why is she so afraid?" He asked desperately.

"Is she afraid?" Carlisle's brows furrowed. "You couldn't tell. She's very good at hiding it."

That was good news; he didn't know if he'd be able to handle seeing her visibly scared.

"Understand that this must be very difficult for her, Jasper. You know that she doesn't resent you for this, although I can certainly understand if you resent yourself for it. But she has friends, and a family, who clearly mean very much to her. She's right to be frightened about how they will react to her. She's right to do so particularly because she has already told us how unkindly vampires are rejected in her world."

"I do understand," Jasper argued weakly.

He wanted to understand, anyway. Logically, he knew it made sense. But his insides were still churning with discomfort, and he could still feel her worry and fear creeping through every vein in his body.

Carlisle squeezed his shoulder for a moment, gripped it, and then said, "It's time to leave. Are you going to be alright?"

"Yes."

Hell if he'd leave her alone, overseas, with a fear that massive.

When he arrived downstairs, Hermione appeared perfectly calm. It disturbed him. He knew that she wasn't – he could feel her anxiety vibrating through his bones. It was worrisome that she could hide it so well. They would discuss that eventually.

He didn't want to put her on the spot, but being this close to her weakened his resolve. He reached out to her and pulled her in his arms, relieved when a small portion of her tension fell away with the gesture. He tucked his chin on top of her head and closed his eyes. Holding Hermione was a different experience than he was used to. She was taller than Alice, but not by very much. Her body shape was different, too. But the strangest thing about holding Hermione wasn't in the physical sensations of it. He felt different, too.

He loved Alice with all of his heart. That certainly wasn't changing any time soon. But the protectiveness that he felt for Hermione, and the worry that he felt for her was beyond anything that he could explain. He loved her, too, but not the same way. It wasn't platonic. In fact, it wasn't even sisterly.

He loved her almost as he imagined he would love a child, but with a bit less of the familial connection.

Nothing would hurt her if he had anything to say about it. He cared far more for her than he did for himself, and it hadn't taken very long for him to discover it.

And she shared the bond with him. She looked to him for guidance. He thrilled every time she looked at him, because when she did there was a rush of emotion – mostly feelings of security, trust, and tenderness – that flooded from her, unchecked. He felt the emotions reflected in himself, but it was pleasant to know that she felt them as well.

"_Don't let me hurt them, Jasper."_

Startled, he pulled his head away from her. A wave of fierce empathy crashed into him when his golden eyes met with her distinct honey-colored ones. They weren't just afraid, they were sad.

He hadn't known that she'd discovered a talent, but now wasn't the time to discuss it. He nodded briefly and squeezed her hand before he finally released her.

The tension she'd felt prior to hugging him returned and, although the thought saddened him, it pleased him to know that he had such a gleaming affect on her emotions.

"Alright," Hermione said, inhaling a deep breath and releasing it, "this is floo powder." She held up an old-fashioned, velvet coin bag by its drawstrings. "You take a pinch, throw it in the fire, then step in and yell your destination."

"Are you insane?" Rosalie demanded. "I don't know if you're aware of this yet, but fire is just about the only thing that _can_ kill us!"

Jasper wanted to growl at her. But he shouldn't do that. He settled for a glare, instead, and Alice gravitated to his side and took his hand gently.

"It won't," Hermione argued meekly. "It's specifically designed not to harm any magical creatures; it would be absolutely forbidden if it could _kill_ one. I could go first, if it would comfort you."

"I'll go," Edward said.

Jasper was curious. What had Hermione thought that made Edward volunteer to do something like that?

She shot Edward a look and, although that involved turning away from him, Jasper could sense how grateful she was to him.

Alice squeezed his hand and offered him a small, sneaky smile. He loved it when she smiled like that. He wondered what devious act she was plotting to perform. He'd have to speak with her about that later.

Hermione held out the bag and proceeded to give Edward instructions. "Toss the powder in the fire, first." He did so, and they watched in awe and wonder as the flames flared up, licking the top of the brick, and turned green. "Now step in," Hermione encouraged, "and yell 'Potter's Foyer' very clearly and very loudly."

Edward obeyed, and a moment later the flames consumed him and he disappeared.

Alice smiled, and said, "I'll go next."

They repeated the process until Alice vanished into the oddly green flames, as well. Then Esme left, followed by Emmett (who went with Rosalie, after being assured that it was safe, in order to assuage her fears), and then Carlisle, who correctly assumed that he wanted to speak with Hermione alone.

She beat him to it.

"Can I talk to you?" She asked nervously. "Very quickly, I promise. I just – I didn't know who else to warn, and I don't want to look like an idiot if I'm wrong."

He nodded, reaching out for her hand and applying light pressure to it.

"I have a theory," she began slowly. He could feel the nervousness increase a few notches, and it hurt. "I think that, somehow, I'm not affected by animal blood and human blood in this world because I had wizard blood. I think I might… thirst for my friends and their pets, because they have magical blood like I did."

It made sense. It made _perfect_ sense. A small part of him prided her for thinking so logically, and coming to such a conclusion. Another part – the strongest part of him – understood why she was so frightened and scared.

She didn't want it to make sense. She didn't want to have any sort of hunger for her friends. Or their pets. She –

"Jasper, I trust you. I don't know why – I'm assuming it's some sort of bond that is formed with the sire. Please, _please_, if there's anything that you can do to stop me, _don't _let me hurt my friends."

He'd do anything to heed to her wishes… but he didn't know if there was much that he could do. She'd done very well so far, controlling her strength. But she hadn't been thirsty before – she'd had no taste whatsoever for the animal blood that they'd brought to her, or the human blood that Carlisle had tried to feed her.

But she was still a newborn. And when newborns were thirsty, their strength all but overpowered every other force in the world. There was a reason he was so cautious of them. He had found it difficult to be wary of her, after she'd been bitten. But he knew why that was. In any other case, he would be skeptical of any newborn that even remotely denied blood the way that she did.

He kissed her forehead lightly and nodded, unable to tell her that he might not be able to do anything. But he was sure that she already knew that.

"Right," Hermione said quietly, whispering against his collarbone. "So you know how to get through, and you can just wait for me at Harry's. I'll be just behind you."

He nodded. He couldn't tell her not to worry, because she had every reason to. But he wanted to say it nevertheless. "It'll be alright," he said instead. And it would be. He'd make sure that it was.


	6. STOP AND STARE

If Hermione had functioned as she used to – as a human would – she knew that she'd be shaking.

She leaned her hands against the mantle and slowly inhaled a deep breath. It didn't have the same, calming effect that it used to, she noticed. She couldn't feel its circulation through her body, really, so she couldn't focus on its journey instead of her maddening nerves.

She had to do this. There was no way around it. Harry and Ron were expecting her. She'd instructed them to bring the remainder of the former Order as well; she had seven vampires who would be much more useful if she needed to be restrained, but the older members of the Order might better know how to treat vampire wounds without further harming the victim.

And Jasper knew.

That, at least, brought her comfort. He brought her comfort. There were no words to describe what she felt for him, but whatever it was, it was strong. She would protect him from anything – not that he'd need it. He had many more years of experience as a vampire than she did.

Hermione wanted – no, needed – to speak with him. She felt hollow when she thought of all the things that she didn't know about him. It felt unnatural; almost as if she were missing a part of herself.

She could feel what he felt. She'd made an effort, earlier, to put on a strong face so that he wouldn't have to see how nervous she was. It was worthless. He could feel what she felt, as well. It was almost a relief. A simple touch from him had settled her nerves tremendously, but when he'd released her, they flooded back with a foreign intensity.

And that was where she stood now.

She took another breath – which still did nothing to help her – and held it. It was uncomfortable. She had to consciously hold the breath in and focus on it. It was abnormal, even for vampires, not to breath. They had gone all of their lives breathing, and stopping was just awkward and odd.

But if it would help to stop her from thirsting for her friends' blood, or even helped to mask the thirst, then it was well worth the small effort.

She'd done all that she could to prepare for what might be coming. She'd told Jasper, she'd called on the majority of the Order, and she'd given herself a moment to halt her breathing processes. Now all that she had to do was step through the fire and go.

She held the powder of the flames and tossed it in, admiring the emerald flames that taunted her.

"And I'm supposed to be a Gryffindor," she scowled at herself, hesitantly stepping into the grate. "Potter's Foyer," she called out steadily, with no small amount of anxiety, and felt her stomach lurch as she passed through.

She landed roughly at the other end, but still stood firmly on two legs. She ached to breathe, but concentrated on blocking it, instead.

Jasper immediately hurried to her side. "Alright?"

"So far," she murmured, voice wavering. "Has anyone greeted you?"

"No," Rosalie said. "Your friends are poor hosts."

Hermione would have disagreed with her, but for the fact that she lacked the will and energy to argue. And Rosalie was right, anyway.

She closed her eyes, just for a moment, and listened to the tinkering in the kitchen. There was noise from upstairs, as well. Fred and George were boasting their newest products to Snape, who said very little and made several small noises of disgruntlement. Hermione smiled, briefly.

"Where to?" Carlisle asked gently.

"Nowhere," Hermione said. "They have to come to us, otherwise they'll be startled."

"Harry?" She called out.

Most of the noises in the house stopped immediately. Hermione groaned. She'd forgotten that her voice had probably changed, as well. Vampires were known for melodic voices.

She could hear them coming closer, and prepared herself for the insatiable hunger that she had been warned of. She heard them stop, almost collectively, and agree that Harry should go alone to meet the vampires, and then gradually introduce them to the rest of the Order.

Hermione didn't want him to go alone.

Jasper took her right hand and laced his fingers through hers, partially to ease her tension and partially so that he would at least be able to slow her down if she launched after one of her friends.

Hermione waited, her insides jumping violently. And then she saw Harry.

Nothing.

At least, no response from her. Jasper crouched forward, though, his eyes darkening. Carlisle rested a hand on his forearm, and Hermione squeezed his hand tightly, realizing, although slightly too late, that _he_ was thirsting for her friends. Alice stroked his hair gently, offering him soft, encouraging smiles.

"Good evening," Esme greeted warmly.

Hermione was pleased that she was the first to say something. She could, more than likely, offer the best impression of the family.

"Hi," Harry said hesitantly, eyes scanning over the vampire coven critically. When his eyes landed on Hermione, he froze, and stared. "Hermione," he said, winded, as if someone had just punched him in the gut and expelled his air supply.

She didn't know what to say. She couldn't soften the blow. That simply wasn't possible. "Don't freak out, okay?" She pleaded.

His jaw worked up and down, and then he cleared his throat and, with clouded eyes, said, "You erm… You didn't mention – and we just didn't expect… Aw, bloody hell, 'Mione. You should have – you should have said _something_."

She rolled her eyes. "Really, Harry? What would you have had me say?" It took an effort to slow her voice down, and to make it loud enough to make it audible for him. "Harry, Ron, I've got some news… I've been bitten by a vampire, but hey, don't worry – I'll still be attending the Celebratory Ball at the end of the month?"

She cringed. She hadn't meant it to sound quite so blunt.

Harry chuckled a bit, and then offered a wry smile. "It's good to see that you haven't lost your humor." He studied her with a fierce, unmasked eye. "I erm… You'll have to… Well, just give me a minute or two."

A minute or two of silence? _Oh, Harry,_ she thought disapprovingly, _you always did know how to create the most awkward situations._

Edward chortled, and then broke into laughter.

Hermione glared at him. He'd been hearing other people's thoughts for centuries – surely he should have developed a better sense of control than _this._

Edward scowled, that time, and she offered him a brief, innocent smile.

A sudden growl from her right, and a sharp jolt in her stomach had her full attention focused on Jasper. She murmured soft words to him, unsure of why he was having such an acute reaction when the others appeared tense, certainly, but alright.

"Okay," Harry inhaled a deep breath. _I'm sure that probably did something for _him_,_ Hermione thought enviously. "So erm… I'm Harry. This is – Well, it's my house. And Ron's of course, but he's much more likely to say something stupid to offend you, so they sent me out, instead."

That wasn't surprising, Hermione thought. Ron was quite liable to stick his foot in his mouth.

"I'm Carlisle," he introduced, retaking his place as the leader of the family. "This is my wife, Esme, and our children – figuratively, of course – Rosalie, Emmett, Edward, Alice, and Jasper."

Harry nodded, his vision catching briefly on Jasper's crouched stance. "Is he… okay?"

"Yeah, he's cool," Emmett shrugged.

"Apparently," Carlisle said neutrally, "magical blood has a much more appealing scent than the humans we typically are surrounded with."

"You live near humans?" Harry asked, shocked.

"We feed off of animal blood," Carlisle answered. "We tolerate the humans, although at times it is more difficult to resist than others."

Harry looked back at Hermione, who shifted uncomfortably. "I haven't… eaten."

"Is that possible?" Harry asked.

"It shouldn't be," Rosalie murmured. Emmett rolled his eyes and squeezed her hand.

"She's right," Carlisle said. "Hermione's a special case that we haven't figured out yet, but she's yet to find a thirst for anything."

Esme sent her a gentle smile, which she returned with some difficulty.

Jasper's efforts to resist the smell of Harry's blood were weakening, and she could feel it. Her stomach was twisted into knots. She probably could keep him from attacking someone, but she knew he would be upset with himself for trying.

"Alice," Jasper said finally, struggling to articulate the words, "I need to go."

Hermione was upset that she couldn't go with him, but she knew that she had to stay here. She was the link between the vampires and the wizards; if she left, she didn't want to know what would ensue. She gave Jasper's hand one last quick squeeze, and watched as he and Alice found the doorway and disappeared through it.

"Now hang on," Harry frowned, "where are they going?"

"Jasper has a bit more trouble resisting your scent than we do," Carlisle explained.

"Will he be coming back?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Rosalie said, maintaining a polite, if slightly forced, tone. "He won't leave her right now," she nodded toward Hermione.

"Is he the one that…?" Harry trailed off, leaving his message implied.

"Yes," Hermione said uneasily.

"Right," Harry murmured. "Right. So, if you're up for it, I guess we should meet the others."

Harry led them past the foyer and into the kitchen, pausing briefly to look at Hermione and then shake his head.

"Bloody hell," Ron breathed, dropping his fork and lacking the speed to catch it before it clattered against his plate.

Eating while there were vampires in the foyer was so incredibly _Ron_ that Hermione couldn't hold back a laugh. "Honestly, Ronald, do you ever _stop_ eating?"

"You're one of them?" He squeaked.

"Nice observation there, Ginger," Rosalie said, a displeased grimace on her face.

Fred and George chuckled, and grinned. "'Lo there!"

"I'm Fred, and this is my brother, George."

"It's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance," George added.

"And may I comment on how _lovely_ you're looking, Miss Hermione? Must be all that _sun_ down there in Forks," Fred winked.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You little sneaks."

"Now, wait just one minute," George held up a hand. "It was only proper, wasn't it Fred? Someone had to go down to assure the Mr. and Mrs. Granger that you were safe, didn't they?"

"We volunteered, you know," Fred informed. "Just goes to show how much we care for you, love."

"You knew?" Mrs. Weasley shrilled. "You didn't care to warn us?"

"No?" Both boys chimed simultaneously, ducking as their mother threw her spatula in the general direction of their heads.

Hermione pressed two fingers to her forehead and attempted to restrain a laugh. Unsuccessfully.

The fire in the kitchen flared up, drawing attention to the flames, and Professor McGonagall who had just stepped out of them. "Am I – oh dear."

"Hello, Professor," Hermione said quietly, feeling, for some reason or another, that she really wanted and almost needed her former professor and mentor's good graces.

"Miss Granger, you – " she began, then cut herself off. "How did this happen?" She asked, glaring at the remaining Cullens.

"Well, we didn't do it," Emmett claimed, shying away from her sharp, accusatory glare.

Rosalie made a small noise of irony and rolled her eyes. "Really, Em? You'll fight with anything that looks even remotely challenging, and this woman frightens you?"

"Babe, look at her," he defended.

Hermione stared at them both incredulously, while Edward simply mumbled, "They're so ridiculous."

"If none of you did it, then who did?" McGonagall demanded sternly.

"Well, they – " Hermione started.

"I did," Jasper said solemnly, as he and Alice walked into the room, he much calmer than when he'd left.

Alice winked at Hermione briefly and took a seat at the table, next to Ron, who was still gawking at Hermione.

Edward grimaced, and shot a murderous glare in Ron's direction, apparently displeased with whatever he was thinking. Hermione was sure that she didn't want to know of whatever it was.

Jasper's jaw clenched threateningly as he, too, looked at Ron. If Edward's glare had been murderous, Hermione didn't have a word for how lethal Jasper's was in comparison. They were in entirely different leagues, and Jasper's was thousands of times more threatening.

"You'd do well to calm those hormones, Ginger," Rosalie suggested.

**- - - -**

_Author's Note:_ Alright, this chapter is already considerably longer than the others. I was going to write the dinner in one chapter, but it simply won't work out that way, so it's being divided into two. Please review! Let me know if there's anything that I should change for the second half of this chapter!


	7. ANIMOSITY

_Author's Note: _I'm hoping that putting this at the beginning will draw attention to it. Just so that everyone is clear on the nature of this story, I thought I might answer a few questions that I've received. This _will_ be a Hermione-Edward romance, and no, Bella and Jacob won't enter into this fic. I am, however, contemplating a sequel – if I ever finish this story! – where Bella and Jacob will be present. Now, on to the chapter!

**- - - -**

Dinner was an awkward affair. There were several attempts at conversation, but they didn't last. Her new family was doing very well, especially considering their apparent hatred toward Ron – which, admittedly, Hermione was quite curious about – but her friends were considerably less amenable.

She could understand that they were stunned at her appearance, and possibly angry that she hadn't mentioned anything of the like in her letter, but they said very little. The debacle was made much worse by the fact that she and the other vampires could not eat, and therefore could not pretend to be too occupied with that task to speak. They mostly conversed among themselves at low decibels that went unheard by the typical human ear while poking around at the food in front of them.

"This is ludicrous," Rosalie said sharply. "Why are we here?"

Jasper growled at her, and Edward shot her a brief, but intense glare. Alice raised her eyebrows at Hermione and muttered, "I wouldn't worry about Rosalie. She's not especially kind to anyone."

Hermione thanked her, but apologized to the family as a whole for the fourth time.

"Don't apologize," Esme comforted. "This must be a surprise to them. Give them time."

Hermione hummed in soft agreement, but still found herself to be rather peeved.

"So," Harry said slowly, "can you run over how… _this_ happened?"

Hermione sighed, and focused on slowing her voice once more. It was awkward – talking in slow motion – and difficult to maintain. "I went to Forks with my parents to visit my aunt, uncle, and cousins. I was on my way to the American equivalent of the Leaky Cauldron, but the taxi driver was moving rather quickly and it was wet outside. Then we crashed, and I suppose that's when _this_," she motioned at herself, "happened."

"_This_ is a good look for you, Hermione," Fred assured her, mocking Harry's original use of the word 'this.'

"_This_ is going to get our little brother into serious trouble," George snorted and pointed at Ron with his fork.

Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust. She'd been entirely aware of Ron's unnecessary attention. She could understand that he was shocked, but this was entirely too uncomfortable. None of the others had stared at her this way!

"None of the others have thought anything _quite_ so lurid, either," Edward snarled under his breath, startling Hermione with his ferocity.

"Ronald," Mrs. Weasley finally snapped at him, "have an ounce of respect for Hermione, and if you lack the consideration to complete _that_ task, have an ounce of respect for yourself. Your behavior is rather unseemly."

"S-Sorry Mum," he grumbled, averting his eyes.

A moment after, while the table was shrouded in silence once again, Jasper tensed to Hermione's left, along with the other vampires. Hermione choked as she unexpectedly heaved in a breath of air – disgusting, putrid air. Her instincts flipped on instantly and she stood rapidly, snarling in the direction of the door. She was not alone. The rest of her 'family' had done the same.

"I'm sorry I'm late!" Remus called from the front door, then grew quieter as he slowly drew nearer.

A low rumble fell from somewhere in the back of Hermione's throat as he opened the kitchen door. Inexplicable anger and hatred poured off of her in waves, and she bared her teeth at Remus, who was instantly on his guard and, consequently, he growled in return.

"We should go," Carlisle ground out through clenched teeth. "Apologies for the sudden departure."

He was stiff, too, but slowly moved his muscles enough to nudge his family members into acquiescence. Hermione was more than reluctant to move, suddenly overcome by an overwhelming urge to rip Remus apart, very slowly, limb from limb. Emmett wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind – giving him a better chance at holding her off, should she decide to put her newborn strength to use – and stonily pushed her toward the foyer where they had entered.

Remus stepped aside, a hand covering his nose to make the attempt more successful. Hermione struggled to brush by him without sinking her teeth into his shoulder – the closest of all his body parts – but Emmett kept his grip firm and skirted them around Remus, so that they never touched him.

Hermione's breath came in short intervals, until she realized that it might be more idyllic for her if she stopped breathing altogether. She closed her eyes and ground her teeth roughly.

"Are we leaving?" She asked finally, unable to prevent the harsh tone that fell forth. She'd never taken well to having her control stripped away.

Jasper reached for her hand, but she pulled away from it and him. He looked hurt and confused until Alice whispered something in his ear and he nodded slightly. Hermione rapidly and unnaturally lost sight of all of her anger and felt intensely weary, instead.

Hermione's mind touched on several topics and emotions before she gathered enough strength to reign all of her thoughts in. She felt Carlisle leading her towards the fireplace, and was too physically and mentally exhausted to insist that they should floo first. She landed shakily at the Cullens' home – _my home_, she coached.

She would never fully adjust to living with a new family or in a new home if she could not regard the family and home as hers.

Quickly stepping out of the way as Rosalie and Emmett flooed through, Hermione sat down on the couch and placed her head in her hands tiredly. She had downplayed her thoughts into submission, and she reveled in the utter silence that she had created – a sanctuary, of sorts, within her mind.

"Never once did you mention Children of the Moon," Rosalie accused, hissing.

"I wasn't aware that they would be a problem," Hermione responded tonelessly, easily inferring that 'Children of the Moon' was how they referred to werewolves. "If I had known, I might have thought it significant to mention."

The others quickly fell from the flames in front of her, anxious to be rid of the tense environment and rancid stench at Grimmauld Place.

Jasper crouched in front of Hermione and rubbed his hand over her knee lightly, urging her to look up at him. "Stop," he pleaded. "All vampires have violent reactions to werewolves."

**- - - -**

Edward studied Hermione carefully, eyeing her defeated position and weary eyes. She'd emptied her thoughts, but he couldn't tell if she'd pulled them away from him, or had forced herself to stop thinking entirely. Either way she had unfortunate timing, because he _needed_ to know what she was thinking.

Although he didn't really understand _why_ he needed to know.

The conversation between Jasper and Hermione seemed to be a very private dealing; even Alice minded her distance and hovered by the mantle. Edward strained his hearing to listen in.

"He's a friend," Hermione murmured to Jasper, maintaining her detached tone. "He's been nothing but kind to me since the day I met him. And I didn't just want to kill him, Jasper… I wanted to annihilate him; I wanted gore. I wanted him to be unrecognizable when I was finished with him."

Jasper did not respond. Edward thought that it was the best course of action, because there was really no available response that would lift Hermione's spirits. But Edward watched with perhaps a small measure of envy as Jasper lightly squeezed Hermione's hand and soothed small circles on her palm.

It wasn't specifically his connection with Hermione that Edward was jealous of, but more that his talent for reading people's emotions guided him toward the right thing to say or do at the right time. It might be nice, Edward thought, to have someone _willingly_ share all of their thoughts, for a change.

A few moments after Jasper and Hermione halted their discussion, Carlisle stood and pushed his hands in his pockets – a sure sign that they were about to have a family discussion.

"It seems," Carlisle offered a tender and sympathetic smile to Hermione, "that there are a few complications that should be settled."

Hermione ducked her head.

"We had not thought to mention Children of the Moon, because it has been quite some time since we last encountered them, but perhaps now is the time to discuss them. It is quite… _rare_, shall we say, for vampires and Children of the Moon to associate. It's involved somewhere in our genetics, but for as long as anyone can recall, we have always been naturally disagreeable in regards to one another."

"That was _not_ disagreeable," Hermione growled. "That was so _beyond_ disagreeable that I can't even find a proper word to describe it. And, damn it, I never struggle to find words!"

Emmett chuckled appreciatively.

"That man is a friend to me – a very good friend, and a very kind man. So help me if I can't find a way to be around him without aching to _destroy_ him," Hermione said fiercely. She reached up to massage her jaw, and Edward assumed that her muscles had tensed. "Excuse me," she muttered, standing and moving toward the front door. "I think I'll explore your property, if you don't mind?"

"Of course not," Esme said consolingly.

"Would you like me to come with you?" Alice offered, extending a friendly smile.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "But thank you."

She bolted out of the door, and Edward noticed a slightly pained expression on Jasper's countenance before he decided to speak. He wasn't sure when it would next be convenient to broach the subject without Hermione present, so he decided that now would probably be best.

"We have to take her to Italy, soon," he reminded them quietly.

"I think I'm more afraid for the Volturi than I am for her," Emmett grinned. "She's got a lot of fire in her."

Edward exchanged a small look with Alice, who frowned, and he mulled over her thoughts when she brought her newest vision to the forefront of her mind. He didn't see anything especially horrifying about it, but Alice seemed displeased.

"You said she was pretty," Rosalie said, rapidly changing the subject after a brief period of silence. "You didn't say she was _that_ pretty."

"Don't be so conceited," Edward remarked. "She's not particularly concerned with her appearance, if it's of any comfort to you. She hasn't even seen herself, yet."


	8. STORY TIME

Hermione cared very little for what she was doing or, for that matter, where she was going. She adamantly refused to think about the disastrous evening they had just spent at Grimmauld Place, and in her refusal, she had decisively elected to take a walk around the property.

The foliage surrounding the house was as plentiful as it was in every other part of Forks. Trees and a general greenness steadfastly guarded the house from curious onlookers and, Hermione noticed, a long driveway on a secluded road separated the Cullens from most of the town. It was cloudy – also not unusual – and dark, so Hermione figured it might be safe to experiment with her newfound abilities. The idea, she admitted, had merit. The skills would be no good to her if she was unsure of their limitations.

But she didn't feel entirely comfortable testing her strength, because she was well aware that the results could be debilitating to the house and its grounds, at least. She'd need a fellow vampire to watch over and guide her in those attempts. She thought next about her mental gift, but Hermione knew she'd specifically need Edward to help her with that, and allowing him an uncertain amount of access to her mind was not something she intended to do. There was too much she wanted to hide from them, and several things that she wanted to hide from even herself.

As she nixed the idea of wading through her abilities, she came upon a small creek. Hermione found the soft sparkle of the water to be charming, and the gentle sound of it's natural current to be soothing, and so she made herself comfortable on the bank of the small river, cozying up in the soft vegetation that made the small woods their home.

She toed off her socks and shoes and dipped her feet in the water comfortably. She felt the temperature change as her feet touched the surface, and she was certain that if she'd still been human, it would have been cool, but as of now she greeted any sort of physical feeling with open arms. It felt nice, Hermione mused, to know that she was still able to feel.

Time seemed insignificant for a while, and as she was able to shove all of her thoughts into a locked compartment at the back of her mind, she felt entirely at ease and agreeable to spending an untold amount of time in the small oasis that Mother Nature had offered her.

Hermione wasn't terribly surprised when she was joined some time later, and because it was Jasper that had come to her, she wasn't upset to see him.

"You're stunning," Jasper murmured to her as he sat, gracefully, down beside her. She had been staring into the water and observing the fish and frogs that inhabited it, sitting on her hands and keeping impossibly still so that the creatures would not desert her. Jasper was hard pressed to think of a more innocent sight than that.

Hermione offered him a small smile that told Jasper she hardly found truth in his words, but she ignored it, and said softly, "I'm sorry that I've worried you."

"I'm coming to believe that I'll always be worried for you," he admitted, "but I've never implied that that's a bad thing. I care for you a great deal, Hermione."

Although the curious, strong bond between them had been present from the get-go, it was another thing entirely to hear him speak of it aloud. As she still wasn't keen on allowing very many of her thoughts to affect her right now, she allowed the rush of affection that she felt for him to think for her, and was pleased with the smile Jasper sent her that told her he'd received the feeling.

"Let me know you, Hermione."

She did. Hermione wasn't certain that she should tell him everything – particularly her scarred memories from the war, and her place in it – but it felt so right to tell him everything she'd been apart of, and everything she'd been up until her arrival in his home. In return, he told her of his history; of how he'd helped kill in the Confederate Army, and helped create an army of newborn vampires with his sire, Maria.

"Did you care for her?" Hermione asked, confused at the prospect of him leaving her.

"I did," he nodded patiently, "but it was a different type of care, I think. I felt for her the natural affection that we all feel for our sires, but Maria was cold and unkind, even to me. It was… difficult for me to leave her, but it was made easier by the fact that she was not incredibly sorry to see me go."

Silence momentarily engulfed them, and then Jasper murmured, "It's different with you."

Hermione looked at him, eyes questing for answers in his, her lip tugged between her teeth as she wondered at the envy that seemed to nag at her.

"I helped create an army," Jasper supplied. "An army of newborn vampires. Most of whom I either sent to their deaths with no qualms or killed myself. I was consumed by my own lust, then. The lust for blood, and the lust for Maria. I loved her as something unattainable, and as such I searched endlessly for her approval, her attentions. After a time, it became clear that despite all that I had done and all that I was willing to do for her, I could earn neither. The realization hit hard, but I carried out her wishes for a while, because I had no real alternatives. When I was offered another opportunity, I left. I was sorry to leave her, but I did not like what I'd become, and I'd begun to suspect that what I felt for her was artificial, anyway. My thoughts of her diminished quickly, particularly after I met Alice. I never knew love until I met her. I'll grant that feeding off of animal blood is more conducive to relationships, but even still everything I feel for Alice, and for you, would not hold a candle to what I once thought I felt for Maria.

"I never felt for her the way I feel for Alice, and I never felt for any of the newborns I created as I feel for you. I could not remember their names if I tried, mostly because I was too selfish and cold to ask. I think a certain kindness, or acknowledgment of the relationship is necessary for it to come full circle, Hermione, and I think we've made that. But… at times, I'm frightened that I won't be capable of giving you what you need, and then at others I feel that you don't need me at all."

"Yes I do," she assured him quietly. "I feel you when you hurt, Jasper, and I know that recently it's been because of me. It's not that I don't need you, it's just that I don't… I don't want to cause you more pain. I don't want to bother you with my silly emotions."

"I feel them anyways," he smiled playfully. "It's my talent. Emotions reach out to me, and I can help influence them, but I mostly feel like it tampers with people's free will. They've a right to feel the way that they want, and changing their emotions for them can change things around. It can affect the paths they take, and the way their life turns out, and I don't want to be responsible for someone else's poor choices. But as we are speaking of talents," he said lightly, "I noticed you've discovered one of your own."

"Yes," she admitted, explaining her gift – at least, what she knew of it, and what she thought it extended to.

"Edward could help you hone that," Jasper suggested carefully, after a brief lapse in silence.

Hermione leaned her shoulder over to touch his, and inhaled deeply, though unnecessarily, at the contact. "I haven't been wholly open with you," she admitted reluctantly.

Jasper was quiet, and gave her the emotional space that she needed, wrapping his arm around her to offer support. He eased her so that she was laying horizontally across his lap, and he gently combed his fingers through her soft, soft hair while she sorted her thoughts.

"I realize that it is out of Edward's control, and he cannot help but to hear the thoughts of others, but I'm… uncomfortable with another person invading my mind."

Jasper sensed there was more, and allowed her two more sighs, and a full minute of chewing at her lip before he teasingly tugged the end of a tendril of her hair. Hermione looked back up at him and smiled cautiously, then continued.

"During the war, I was… taken, for a short time, by one of Voldemort's followers," Hermione confessed, eyes squeezed tight and her porcelain face entirely too motionless. Jasper could feel guilt and sorrow radiating from her, but was consumed by the thought of anyone harming her, and growled at the possibility. "I refused to give over the information he wanted about my former headmaster; he'd been away for a time, searching for the proper materials to vanquish the Dark Lord. Dolohov," Jasper growled again at the mention of his name, remembering that this had been the man to curse her two years prior in the Department of Mysteries, "was the one who'd taken me. After he'd had his fun hexing me for a while, he used Legilimency on me to get what he wanted."

She'd already explained to him what Legilimency was, and Jasper had his ominous suspicions about what she was about to share with him.

"I didn't know Occlumency. I'd never been taught, and I hadn't the time, then, to learn it on my own. I didn't – " she choked on a gasp of breath.

Jasper was sure that if Hermione were human, there would be tears in her eyes. As it was, he could feel the gnawing grief inside of her, and didn't need the tears to tell him that she was hurting. He cradled her head against him, and patiently waited for her to collect herself.

"I couldn't stop him from finding what he needed. Headmaster Dumbledore had found what he'd needed, as well, and he'd carefully detailed a journal with direct instructions within it, and sent it, along with the proper supplies, over with his phoenix to bring to Harry. It left all of us with the uncanny feeling that he'd known something horrid was coming, as we typically shy away from sending important items by post, because the birds are pretty easily intercepted. Before Dumbledore could make it back from whichever part of the world he'd been in, we received word of his death."

Hermione did not want to hear that it had not been her fault, nor did she want to hear that she did all that she could have done, and so despite his strongest urges to tell it to her, Jasper refrained. He thought carefully about how to word what he needed to say in a way that would not blatantly offer her the pity that she would deny, and would still console her as he wished it to.

"I think that any man would have appreciated the original loyalty you showed by not handing the information over willingly. If Headmaster Dumbledore was as kind-hearted and forgiving as you claim he was, I strongly believe that he would not have held your one failure against you, when you gave him so many other successes."

"No," she agreed faintly, "but I hold it against myself. It was my inadequacy that brought his death, and I'll never forgive myself for that. I spent months after that learning Occlumency, Legilimency, and every other power of the mind that was within my control to learn. Harry and Ron kept saying that it wasn't my fault, that there was nothing I could have done, but there _was_ something I could have done. I'd learned the skill too late. I'd stalled in preparing myself, and that ended in the death of a man that I loved very much. This gift that I have…" she chuckled self-deprecatingly. "It must be some ugly form of karma."

"Perhaps not," Jasper offered. "I was always a bit empathic to people; I was good with handling their emotions, and I was told that I was very easy to speak with. Alice had premonitions before being turned. Carlisle thinks some of our human lives trail with us to our lives as vampires, and that's where our abilities come from. Maybe after you threw yourself into learning the skill, it became a very significant part of you. You've always been smart, always been able to think on your feet, from all the stories you've shared with me. If you were to be granted a gift, I think it would only have suited you to have one that works with the mind."

Hermione objectively granted that the theory might hold some truth to it, but the subject was a sore one for her, and she didn't linger on it very long.

"I don't mean to pressure you," Jasper attempted to assure her, stroking her face with incredibly light, comforting strokes, "but after that incident with _Dolohov_," he bit out with difficulty, "mightn't it be best if you were prepared for anything, to the best of your ability?"

Hermione knew that it _would_ be best that way, and she also knew that, if something did happen, she would strongly regret that she hadn't sought Edward out for his help. As was her custom, she shoved her feelings aside, and nodded stoically. "Would he be willing, do you think?"

Jasper smirked a little, then chuckled slightly, and murmured, "I think he'd be more than willing. You interest him."

"Me? But why?"

"The way you think is, apparently, abnormal. He says you tease him with thoughts every now and then, until you pull yourself together and obstruct them from his view. Edward says having the ability to read your mind doesn't help him very much, because you only let through what you want to let through."

"But then once he's seen everything I have, I'll be like everyone else," Hermione shrugged carelessly.

"Maybe," Jasper said, unconvinced, "but I think you have a softness, and a generosity in you that's appealing all on its own, and I think Edward'll be a fool not to see it."

"What about the rest, Jasper?" Hermione whispered, unafraid to show him that she cared what they thought of her. "I know you keep saying I'm more than welcome, and I thank you so much for trying to make me comfortable, but I feel like I'm encroaching on a family that didn't necessarily want me."

Jasper stiffened, and nodded calculatingly. "New vampires are always difficult for the family. It's that first little while where it's awkward, because we don't yet know you, and then it's teaching you all that we know. It's just… adapting. We're never happy when another human has lost their life to become one of us," Jasper admitted. "We try not to do it, and Carlisle has been very careful about only turning those who are already dying, like you were. It's also different for you, because you've introduced a new world to us, and we're not sure what this means for the lifestyle we currently have. It opens a lot of doors, and creates a few problems."

"Problems?"

He was silent, and then he rolled his shoulders uneasily, and began to explain the Volturi and their guard. He explained the position that they held amongst the vampires, and how they were the biased, unofficial, yet extremely powerful judicial system of their kind. Jasper tried to gently explain that because they, too, had not known of her world, they were somewhat obliged to share it with them, so that they were aware that more of their kind existed.

"They're supposed to know, anyways," Hermione said angrily, sitting up straight. "All magical beings have the right to know that a world exists where they are welcome."

She mentally conceded that they were not entirely _welcome_, they were more _accepted_, so long as they kept their diet limited to overpopulated animal species, but even still – the vampires should have the liberty of making that choice for themselves.

"Perhaps, but the trouble is that they'll want you to explain it to them, perhaps become a liaison for them, and test what abilities you currently possess. Then there's the trouble of there being more vampires like you."

"I'm not a guinea pig to be kept in a controlled environment and tested," Hermione scowled hotly. "I suppose there are probably hundreds more vampires like me, but most of them keep toward animal diets, because in our world, you're persecuted for killing humans, muggle or otherwise."

Jasper, who was still learning the terminology of the Wizarding world, needed a brief reminder of what a muggle was. It eased the slight tension that the subject matter had created, because Hermione couldn't hold back a melodic laugh when she saw the bafflement that blanketed his face.

He nodded comprehendingly when she explained it to him, then offered an awkward, wary smile as he suggested that they pay the Volturi the expected visit next week. Hermione sighed, and held tightly to her reservations about the group of self-appointed leaders, but acknowledged that this was important to Jasper, and important to keeping their family safe, and so she conceded and allowed him to schedule it.

It was still dark when they returned to the house, and as Hermione was certain she'd been out there for hours before Jasper came to sit with her, and she knew they'd spoken for several more, she had to guess it was early morning. A ventured look at the clock, which read 4:18 in stark red numbers, confirmed her suspicions.

"What do you do?" Hermione blurted suddenly. "There's so much time when you don't have to bend to human laws of existence. What do you do?"

Jasper shrugged. "You get used to it. You learn languages, take up hobbies, practice sports, read. You mentioned you like to read, right? We've got a pretty… expansive library, if you'd like to see it."

Thrilled at the prospect, Hermione nodded, feeling glee for the first time since her transformation. Jasper laughed at her obvious excitement, and guided her to a set of doors that might've put Hogwarts' entrance to shame. He tugged them open with little effort, and revealed to her floor to ceiling shelves with books stocked in every available space and – Merlin be damned – were those _stairs_?

"Is there more than one floor?" She asked, awed, drifting toward the center, suddenly resembling a small human as viewed from space due to her size in comparison to the size of the room. Not only was it larger than the Gryffindor commons, it was taller, too. She could have stacked six Jaspers on top of each other, and the top one's head still wouldn't touch the ceiling.

"There are four floors. Carlisle's a doctor, so a lot of them are medical books, but when you've lived as long as we have, and have as much free time as we do, you accumulate a lot of books."

Hermione was certain he could feel her elation, and her enthrallment, but at the moment she was too engrossed with the books to be worried about embarrassing herself. Her affection for books was clearly unrivaled, but they were her retreat, and they had always been kind to her. Hermione didn't care that she was a vampire; you didn't turn your back on something that had treated you well for eighteen years. Loyalty like that was hard to find.

"They're categorized by call numbers!" Hermione exclaimed, delighted.

"Yes," Jasper grinned, pleased that something so simple could grant her such incredible happiness. He was bemused by it, but insurmountably pleased. "Carlisle likes to be able to find his books with ease. Edward programmed the computer over there with all the books in our library, and he updates it whenever we add new ones, so if you're looking for something particular, that can let you know if we've got it. If not, I'll go buy it for you."

Hermione had that would-be-crying look on her face again, but Jasper knew that her only emotions right now were ones of joy. He studied her face for a visible reaction, but before he could find it, Hermione had launched herself at him full-speed and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his flawless cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered to him. A certain sincerity tainted her words enough that it made Jasper unable to properly respond, but she didn't need him to. Hermione turned around and looked a bit at a loss as to where to begin, but eventually started at the wall closest to her, observing titles, mouthing each one as she read them, grazing her fingers over the spines as she assessed what they had thus far gathered.

Jasper took a book off the shelf, not sure of which one he chose, and sat in an armchair at the center of the room. He opened the book to hold up the pretense of reading it, but he mostly wanted to watch her, and memorize this happiness in her. This was what he wanted her to feel, always. He would make her happy with him. With them, he amended. She would be happy in their family. They all just needed time.

* * *

_Author's Note: An apology, at this point, seems rather weak and pathetic, but I offer one nevertheless. I'm not sure when this will be updated next, but reviews are conducive to writing, my friends. Thoughts, theories, favorite lines, favorite parts – I'm happy to hear it all! I'm actually quite fond of this chapter, and will unquestionably mark it as my favorite one thus far, so I'm incredibly interested in finding out if you agree or disagree._

_**Important!** I'm bumping this story up to rated M. I haven't reached a point where the rating is necessary yet, and I probably won't for several more chapters, but I felt I should inform you that it's happening. _


	9. TENDER AND TOUGH

_Author's Note: _You know, folks, I knew it had been a while since I last updated, but it wasn't until I recently received a review stating that it's been nearly a year since that last update that I realized _exactly_ how long it'd been. It served as wonderful inspiration.

Here's to hoping it won't take that long, this time around.

* * *

Hermione buried herself in books for four days before she would admit that, although she very much enjoyed perusing the novels, she was stalling. It was unlike her to allow her feelings to get in the way of something that needed to be done, but talking with Edward about her talent and exploring that talent would awaken tender memories that she wasn't keen on looking into a second time.

She was certain that Edward had probably gathered pieces of her past from Jasper, but she wasn't conceited enough to believe that she was the only thing he thought of, and even still Jasper's take on what she'd shared with him was absolutely different than allowing Edward to view her actual memories of the events. Hermione wasn't sure she was ready to do that. It had only been recently that she'd allowed herself to linger on thoughts of her beloved ex-Headmaster, and even before that his death had been one big blur, surrounded by the niggling voice in her mind that screamed _mea culpa_ to her at every given opportunity.

But in the grand scheme of things, Hermione knew that her feelings mattered very little, and it had always been that thought that kept her from involving them in her actions. It was more important to do what was necessary and be personally scorned by it than to not follow through and permit someone else to be harmed because of it.

Hermione reminded herself of that as she meandered up to Edward's room, but before she went in she made sure that her thoughts were inaccessible, at least initially. Her emotions, she admitted, were not quite so easy for her to shield, but she'd managed to grasp at determination, and determination alone, to perhaps prevent Jasper from becoming concerned.

She knocked, as was polite, if perhaps unnecessary in this household, and waited for his say-so before she walked in. Hermione suspected that he had to have known she was coming, but Edward still appeared surprised to see her. He pulled himself together quickly, though, and gifted her with an incredibly charming, uneven grin.

"We were sure you'd never leave the library," he laughed.

"Sorry," she smiled back nervously, sheepishly. "I tend to get a little side-tracked when I don't have a specific goal for my research."

Edward shrugged. "We don't mind. This is your home now, too."

Hermione inhaled sharply, closing her eyes to concentrate on refocusing her emotions. She mentally sent an apology to Jasper for the unexpected burst of warmth and appreciation that she'd allowed to slip through her guard, and opened her eyes again. "It's hard to get used to that," she confessed.

The much-older vampire slipped his hands into his pockets and regarded her curiously. "If we've done something to make you feel that you're not welcome – "

"No," Hermione effectively cut him off. "You've all been quite lovely to me, particularly under the circumstances. It's just that it's… difficult to categorize my relationship with all of you as familial when I scarcely know you at all."

"We're not hiding anything from you," Edward informed her, taking a couple steps forward, but leaving his hands in his pockets. "We only meant to give you time to adjust before explaining everything about us."

Hermione smiled wryly, then knowingly asked, "But how can I adjust without knowing?"

"What a vicious circle this has become," Edward murmured, tilting his head to try to catch her downward gaze.

"Yes," she murmured, inexplicably feeling as though the breath that she did not truly need had become immediately insufficient as her eyes made contact with his.

She wasn't sure how she knew, but Hermione was certain that if her heart were still active, it would be pounding in her chest, swiftly, and all of the blood that her body held would be rushing to color her cheeks. There was something terribly seductive about the way that Edward Cullen spoke, with his carefully enunciated words and unfettered eye contact, and it captured Hermione in a way that she could not hope to explain.

She took a good look at him, then. His hair could be described as nothing but bronze, as it was nothing so normal as brown. He was lean, certainly, but she could see the muscles in his forearms, and although she had never been terribly attracted to the strength or the power that a man wielded, she found both to be impossibly… fitting on Edward. His eyes were equally as enrapturing as the eyes of his other family members, but Hermione found that it was much easier to lose herself in his eyes than Jasper's.

Like now, for instance. Hermione appropriately chided herself for allowing her mind to wander, and instantaneously herded her thoughts into that small corner at the back of her head.

"Have you seen yourself?" Edward asked at length, seemingly undisturbed by her unmistakable assessment of him.

"Pardon?"

"Since the transformation?" He pressed gently, grasping her by the elbow as if he knew that she would answer negatively. When she did just that, he seemed unsurprised, and turned her toward the mirror above his dresser.

Hermione had figured that she had changed; she had, after all, read a bit about vampires during her stay at Hogwarts. Aside from that, the brief time that she had spent at Grimmauld Place had been telling enough. Ron's less than dignified reaction, in addition to everyone else's, had informed her that she had acquired some sort of new appearance.

But… she hadn't expected this. It didn't even look like her, she thought detachedly. Her eyes looked like theirs now. Her face and skin were incredibly pale and porcelain-like, and, as far as she could tell, unmarked but for the exposed set of reflecting teeth marks on her left shoulder. Hermione felt a desire to check if Dolohov's curse mark still curved across her stomach, but she somehow doubted it and felt uncomfortable baring her stomach in front of Edward. Her once untamable, stubborn hair was calmer now, and fell to the small of her back in effortless ringlets that Hermione would have killed to have possessed in her human life. The color was different, too; it was now golden, and yellow, and brown.

Hermione wasn't sure how she felt about the changes, so she shifted uncomfortably away from the mirror and ignored them in favor of speaking with Edward. "I had a favor to ask of you," she muttered, almost unwillingly.

"Anything you wish," he responded quickly.

"Don't answer quite yet," Hermione pleaded quietly. "It's a favor of decent significance that requires magnanimous support."

She explained what she needed, and what she was asking of him. She clarified that she was uncertain about the extent of her gift and needed his assistance in picking at the holes in her shield, in detecting how far she could send the thoughts, and so on.

"I would be honored to help," Edward assented generously, eyes never wavering from hers as he offered himself over to her cause.

Brows furrowed, Hermione murmured quietly, "That's it?"

Edward shrugged – an action that, Hermione acknowledged, she had not quite mastered to that same degree. Shrugging was a human expression of discomfort or indifference, and she lacked fluidity when she attempted it in her vampire form. It looked incredibly natural for Edward, and she briefly envied him before conceding that he'd had many more years to perfect his human-like qualities than she.

A moment later, Hermione was thrown and baffled when, instead of making a comment on her impolite staring, Edward frowned at her.

"People haven't treated you very kindly, have they?"

She staggered backward, and blinked several times, but after having a few moments to process, Hermione felt her systems shut down. She didn't want to approach that topic. The way that people treated her had always been a sore spot for her; she'd been ridiculed all throughout her youth, mocked for her bookish demeanor, her unfortunate appearance, and her somewhat out of the ordinary heritage, and she'd been punished, thoroughly and extensively, for the latter.

Hermione could tell that Edward felt the block she'd instated. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words lodged in her throat, and she had no grasp of what she'd been trying to say, anyway. An apology, maybe? An explanation? She wasn't sure. In order to apologize, she'd need to be certain what she was apologizing for, and she couldn't offer an explanation because she simply didn't have a sufficient one.

Edward's face clouded for a second, as if irritated by the fact that he did not have access to what she was thinking, but he shook himself of it. "This will not work," he informed her blankly, "if you do that every time we touch upon an uncomfortable subject."

Feeling aggravated with herself, she tossed back, "I haven't done this before, alright? I don't know how to control it, yet. Right now it's linked to my emotions, as far as I can discern, and when I'm uncertain about something, I close off. I understand that it's a different concept for you, and likely to be frustrating as mental blocks are things that you very seldom, if ever, have to face, but at least for now, I can't help it."

Edward cocked his head to the side and studied her through intense amber eyes. "Then our foremost concern ought to be making you comfortable."

Hermione released a hollow sort of laugh. She wondered how he intended to make her comfortable when she'd been so incredibly _un_comfortable for so many years, but she couldn't refute the fact that it would surely make the process a fair bit easier if she at least felt slightly more at ease with him.

He reached a hand out of his pocket and made a motion toward the couch. "Please," he said politely, "sit."

Hermione obeyed, feeling awkward and uncertain with their current predicament. She'd never been terribly apt as far as social skills were concerned, regardless, but there was no sort of protocol for how to gracefully insert yourself within a family a vampires.

Edward smiled at her gently, and softly said, "My story isn't quite as interesting as Jasper's, I'm afraid, and certainly not as convoluted as yours. When I was seventeen, my birth mother died of the Spanish influenza. It wasn't exactly uncommon for the time. I was infected, also. We were in Chicago at the time, and Carlisle, being a renowned doctor, was assisting at the hospital. I don't know what it was about me, over any of the others, that attracted him to me, but he transformed me then. It was just me and Carlisle, then, and a few years later Esme joined us."

"You care about them," Hermione observed. His voice had turned very affectionate when speaking of his adoptive parents, and a tender part of Hermione responded to it. She admired and adored that he was so willing to admit how much they meant to him.

Edward's grin was quick and heartbreaking. "Very much. They've taken good care of us."

It bemused her that he could say that when his age totaled at something near eighty. He was certainly old enough to care for himself.

"They're my family," Edward explained. "They're all that I remember having. Our moral code regarding humans varies significantly from the norm. We don't associate with other vampires often. There's something cold in them that makes it difficult from them to express fondness for anything, save for their prey. We don't associate with the humans, either, because most vampires, including the Volturi, are extremely opposed to exposing ourselves to them. The human track record regarding magic doesn't act in their favor, either. We stay together for companionship, and because we care deeply for one another."

Hermione wondered briefly if she would ever be able to care for them that deeply, or if they could accept her so fully into their family. Their generosity thus far had been astounding, and Jasper had been wonderful, but generosity was a far shot from love. And although he'd not outright said so, this family exploded with love and tenderness. She envied it fiercely, she realized suddenly.

Her parents loved each other, certainly, and she had fond childhood memories with both of them, but she'd spent her adolescent and teenage years abroad, which deeply and directly affected the relationship she had with each of them. She'd kept so many secrets from them, and had glossed over so many of the things that hurt and angered her. She'd kept them oblivious, and she wouldn't have changed that for any of her three worlds. The pureblooded bigotry, the war, her injuries, her neglected emotions – they would all devastate her parents, and she never wanted that.

This unorthodox family had no secrets. They could mask no emotions from one another, particularly not from Jasper, and none of them had reprieve from Edward's mindreading talents, but even still, the bonds they shared were so intricate and developed that they would have almost no reason or wish to hide anything.

"It's a precious thing to have," she said, summarizing her thoughts effectively. "It's admittedly pleasing that you're not oblivious to that."

Later, as she curled up in a cozy chair in the library, she pondered over her conversation with him, and her reactions to him. Something about that lithe and handsome boy made her emotions extraordinarily volatile. He made her insecure (more so that she already knew she was), and quickly flustered. She'd experienced bouts of envy and warm feelings as immediate reactions to the words that he spoke. And his intense gaze and soft voice made something in her churn with discomfort.

Within this family, he was the greatest threat to her stability. Rosalie, although initially impressing an unwelcome feeling upon Hermione, could be handled easily, but Edward's ability to read her thoughts unnerved her, and his ability to grasp at her emotions in a way that only Jasper should reasonably be capable of quite frankly frightened her.


	10. THE OTHER WOMAN

_**Author's Note**__: Alright, so it's been a while… I know, I know, I'm a terrible person. I left the entire Twilight fanfiction world up until recently, and I had a really hard time bringing the two worlds together again. I figured I'd wait until I could sew them back together rather than updating with a chapter that wasn't really fitting to the story._

_I'm so sorry that I've left you all hanging for so long, though. Forgive me? I know it's short, but summer is coming soon, which means lots of time to write, so maybe I picked a perfect time to reenter the game, huh? Review, please, if any of you are still reading!_

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"Come with me," Alice said, an endearing dimple winking against her left cheek as she tugged at her sister's wrist.

"Why?" Rosalie demanded, not at all charmed by Alice's elfish nature.

"To see Hermione, of course," Alice explained, as if the answer ought to be obvious. It wasn't, because she knew that Rosalie was not at all keen on speaking of or to the newest addition to their family, but Alice knew that it would make Jasper so pleased if they were able to convince the youngest of them that they truly would accept her into their family, with time.

"I don't want to mingle with her just yet, Alice," Rosalie stalled, digging her heels into the carpeted floor and ceasing their forward progression.

Alice pouted. "Rosie, she's scared, and she feels alienated – by all of us, but mostly by you. I haven't spoken with her much, either, because I know we've all been trying to give her space to adjust, but you've been openly resentful of her presence here, and that weighs down on a person who's feeling overwhelmed and confused to begin with."

Rosalie shook her head, resolute in her decision. "Alice, I won't be any more welcoming of her now than I have been since she was first turned. I'm sure I'll get used to her eventually, but… not now," she replied honestly.

Alice sighed, trying wide eyes and her most adorable jutted out lip on her stoic younger sister.

Defiantly, Rosalie gracefully slid back into the couch, and picked up the magazine that she had been reading prior to Alice's interruption, flicking through the pages lazily.

Serious, now, Alice requested, "Just promise to try, Rosalie? You remember how terrifying it was – I know you do. She may not be human anymore, and she may not express it as naturally as some, but she still has feelings, Rose, and you know she's frightened."

Feeling slightly ashamed of herself and her actions, and more than put out that Alice had called her on it, Rosalie nodded and silently agreed that she would try to be kinder to Hermione, but she still had no intention of actively seeking her out to inform her of this new decision.

Rosalie's compliance, however, was enough for Alice, and the pixie seemed to twirl from the room, still intent on speaking with Hermione and befriending her. She had waited nearly two weeks now for Hermione to settle in, and she was excited to finally know Jasper's child, and allow Hermione to get to know her, as well. Jasper spoken fondly of her as her sire, but the stories that he had also shared with Alice about Hermione's past had stirred both concern and admiration within Alice. Her newest sister had seen and accomplished many things for such a young life, and Alice knew that she still suffered from the effects of both.

If Alice hadn't already known that Hermione was residing in the library, she would easily have been able to guess. The place had become the girl's oasis, for a reason that Alice couldn't quite fathom. She'd read many books throughout her life (and throughout her death), but she could never imagine finding as much joy in the act as Hermione seemed to. Nevertheless, she understood that it made Hermione happy – and was one of the few things that could – and she would never dream of revoking that right from her.

"What are you reading?" Alice asked casually, dancing around to the couch and taking a seat, noticing with amusement and slight confusion as Hermione jumped and reflexively placed a palm over her unbeating heart.

"_God_," Hermione hissed, closing her eyes and inhaling sharply. "You frightened me."

"I'm very sorry," Alice giggled. "Didn't you hear me come in?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, and facetiously muttered, "I tend to get caught up in my books. I don't know anything outside of the words on the page, I'm afraid. I'm sorry."

Alice smiled softly. "Don't apologize. It's good to find something that can relax you that intensely. It's difficult for us to relieve stress sometimes, as we can't really sleep, so we can go for days thinking and thinking and never taking a break."

"Sounds an awful lot like my human life," Hermione murmured, placing her index finger at her current page and reaching to the back of the book for a slip of paper, which she removed and place between the pages where her finger marked.

"Jasper mentioned you were very intelligent," Alice recalled thoughtfully, eyes perceptively scanning for a reaction.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "I was thrown into the magical world when I was eleven. There was a lot that scared me about it, and a lot more to learn about; I devoured all information about it that I could. Perhaps I was overcompensating for my lack of knowledge."

"You're uncomfortable," Alice stated starkly, compassion and sadness laced in her tone as she reached for Hermione's hand. "I apologize. I didn't mean to unsettle you."

"No… It's not you," Hermione paused, briefly. "Well, maybe some of it is you, but it's nothing you've done. I'm not a terribly social sort of person to begin with; I never have been. I've always been a fairly introverted individual. I stick to my books," she offered a wry grin, because she knew that Alice had certainly already noted her affection for this vast castle that they called a library. "I'm not adapted to meeting new people, and attaching the term "family" to it is heavy, for me. It makes it more important that I not mess up," Hermione bit her lip, hesitated. "Especially with you," she added carefully.

Confused, Alice recoiled, her hand still keeping Hermione's in a loose grasp. "What makes me different?"

Hermione swallowed, and kept her eyes focused on their hands, together, debating whether she should continue. "You're his mate," she whispered, somewhat brokenly, "and that makes it different with you on several levels. To start with, I feel selfish for occupying so much of his time. I know how often he worries for me, and I definitely appreciate and maybe enjoy it a little, but I don't at all want that to interfere with what the two of you have, because you can tell how much you mean to Jasper – how much you mean to each other. So there's part of me that's nervous that you and I won't get on well at all, because I know that if I were in your position, I'd be at least slightly irritated at the cause of his distraction Not that I think you're that kind of person!" Hermione rushed to add, "But I think it's fairly normal for a significant other – a mate? – to find that frustrating.

"And, going back to the fact that you're important to him… Well, that alone sort of puts the pressure on, a bit. I'm probably creating problems where there aren't any, and I apologize for assuming things about you and about him, but I'm concerned that if, for whatever reason, we don't like each other, then it will deeply hurt Jasper, and that's the very last thing that I want. I have the unavoidable, natural affection for my sire, yes, but in addition to that, Jasper has been… so incredible. He's been so welcoming and amiable and loving, and I don't think I could ever repay him that, not that I think he would ever expect that of me. But to not get on with his mate would almost feel like a betrayal to him, somehow."

Alice smiled softly, sweetly. "Have you really been worried about all of that?"

Hermione nodded after a brief pause, then said, "I'm sorry. I've always had a problem with talking excessively, but the fact that I no longer need to breathe means I don't have that subconscious reminder to shut up."

The tinkling laugh that escaped Alice relieved Hermione a miniscule amount, but there was still tension straining against her neck and shoulders. She felt Alice's hand tighten against hers briefly before she flipped it over and began tracing nonsensical patterns over her palm.

"Your voice is pretty," Alice decided, "so it's more than okay if you talk a lot. Also, I'd very much like it if you quit apologizing. I understand that this is a scary time for you, and that you've had a lot of things to think about. It upsets me that you so frequently apologize for the way that you feel. Speaking logically, it's necessary to sort out you feelings before you can adequately cope with situations. And, speaking personally, the way you express yourself is charming, and nothing to be ashamed of."

Hermione didn't respond immediately, feeling a block in her throat that made it difficult for her to swallow. "You're very kind," she whispered, closing her eyes and enjoying the physical contact with her "older sister" as she continued to draw designs with her fingers in Hermione's flattened hand.

"I try to be," Alice answered honestly, an easy smile picking up the corners of her lips and making the already adorable and stunning vampire appear lighthearted and carefree. "It doesn't always work out," she laughed, "and I end up manipulating people with some frequency, entirely unintentionally, but I try to be kind unless the situation or person calls for something else, for whatever reason."

"Is it rude of me to ask about your visions?" Hermione cautiously accepted the rough segue that Alice vaguely hinted at. "Forgive me," she rushed to say, shaking her head. "You don't have to tell me about them if it makes you uncomfortable, but I must admit, I've always been a bit of a skeptic as far as clairvoyance was concerned."

"Well, there's no crystal ball or Ouija board or anything," Alice said softly, trying to put her companion at ease. "In fact, I can't even control when I get them. They just sort of… happen. I apologize," she said quietly, shrugging, "I know that's not quite as involved as you expected, but that really is how it works. Most times I see my own future, or the futures of people I know and am close with, but sometimes it's just strangers whom I've never met. It's always subject to change, though. Just because I see it happen doesn't mean that it definitely will; it just means that the people involved in my visions of the future made certain decisions in the present, and the visions I see are the results. But the decisions in the present are subject to change, whether something changes those decisions or people just change their minds, for whatever reason. Am I making sense to you, Hermione? I apologize; I haven't had to explain this in quite a while."

"No, I understand, I think," she answered. "So it's just a future that could happen that way?"

"Exactly," Alice nodded, pleased with herself and with Hermione.

"It sounds more like Arithmancy than Divination, then," Hermione deduced. The decisions that people made were the equivalent of the numbers put into the equation, and those numbers (or decisions) altered the results.

Alice's eyes lit up. "What's Arithmancy?"

"It's a subject at Hogwarts – the magical school I attended. It ah… Well, essentially, you have equations that predict the future, but don't claim anything for certain. You can determine the probability of certain outcomes."

"Yes, it's sort of like that," Alice agreed, leaning forward and distractedly furrowing her brow as she smoothed over the lines on Hermione's palm again. "Hermione, may I perhaps be a bit intrusive and ask you a question?"

"I guess so," Hermione answered dubiously, "but I reserve the right not to answer."

Frowning at her easy distrust of people, Alice thought carefully about how to word her question appropriately. "I've witnessed a couple of visions recently that involve you," Alice began slowly, "and some of them involve your upcoming visit with the Volturi."

The growl that escaped Hermione was nothing short of animalistic, and entirely unexpected, but it was genuine. "I apologize," Hermione said, ducking her head shamefully. "That reaction was unnecessary. I just find the idea of the Volturi to be somewhat barbaric."

"I agree," Alice nodded sympathetically, "but they're very powerful, and incredibly intent upon recruiting the most powerful vampires available to their court. And, even without a vision, I would know that they would obviously extend an invite to you."

"I won't go, if that's what you're asking," Hermione declined immediately. "I understand that a source of government is required, however I disagree with their oligarchy, the punishments they issue forth, and their cruel manner of playing with their food before indulging in it."

"Okay," Alice smiled gently, genuinely enchanted by Hermione's strong morals and her fondness for ranting.

"That's all?" Hermione's brow furrowed confusedly.

Alice nodded.

"No it isn't," Hermione said softly, shaking her head. "It's okay if you don't wish to tell me," she assured quietly, "but there's a… something in your eye that tells me you're not telling me everything there is."

"You're very astute," Alice grinned affably, "however I'm afraid to say more for fear of altering the vision I've seen in a negative way."

"Fair enough, I suppose," Hermione acknowledged, not necessarily feeling as though Alice was hiding something essential from her, but reminded of how greatly she despised when people shielded things from her. But Alice had been very kind and understanding, and very physically close to her, and she wasn't willing to risk this promising new acquaintanceship (or whatever it was to be called) with her "older sister" and, more importantly, her sire's mate.


End file.
